Dust to Dust
by Aspect of One
Summary: "Earth to earth, dust to dust, ashes to ashes." Unnatural freaks of the earth are forced into the Hunger Games. Their lives matter little in the grand scheme of things; to create the perfect Super Soldier. [AU SYOT Open]
1. Earth to earth

**Prologue ; Part One**

* * *

 _Earth to earth_

After the events of the 75th Hunger Games, the uprising threw Panem into civil war. None could trust another for betrayal ran deep. Moles, so planted by President Snow, had infiltrated into every part of the rebellion. With information at his fingertips, the President was prepared for each possible contingency.

Air strikes razed multiple districts to the ground. The rebels pushed forward and into capturing District 2. President Snow, long prepared for this, sent in even more forces as reinforcement. The ensuing bloodbath in the central square of the district ended with heavy casualties on both sides. But ultimately, Katniss Everdeen and Finnick Odair had both been taken by the Capitol. District 2, though damaged, was uncaptured. The rebels had to retreat.

In that time, a public Victors Purge was broadcasted live.

Multiple air strikes obliterated District 13.

President Snow emerged victorious from the war. But not without his own consequences.

 _Ashes to ashes_

Even till this day, the motives behind President Snow's death are still disputed. Some claim it an assassination, the others suicide. But be it one or the other, President Snow died not too long after the war. His daughter, Catarina Snow, took his place.

The first thing she did was to declare the abolishment of the Hunger Games.

"For too long has it wrought grief and despair, bringing nothing but blood and war to our doorsteps," she had said.

The second thing she did was to introduce state reforms.

The districts were absorbed into the Capitol. No longer did Districts 1 to 12 exist officially. Districts 2, 5, 7, 8, 11, and 12 were rebuilt. District 13 was left only as a burning memory of the war. The functions of the districts were kept the same, and moving between each district could now happen freely. Though not officially existing as District X any longer, they often still are referred to as such in day-to-day conversations.

Under other new policies she had introduced, Panem flourished. It reached greater heights it never had before.

Catarina Snow became well-loved and respected. Though the circumstances surrounding her father's death are shady at best, her other achievements overshadowed that.

But little do people know that the darkness of the Hunger Games still lurks.

 _Dust to dust_

Catarina Snow, a woman as paranoid as her father, initiated a new program. The Janus Program. An initiative meant to create the perfect Super Soldier, she hired a group of scientists to help develop it. Sponsors were found as well to help fund the program. A serum mix was made, including heavy research going into radiation.

Ever wary of the possibility of a rebellion, and knowing that had things been just the littlest bit different, she desired an edge over the common people. Rumours of a growing group of dissidents against the Snow autocracy did little to assuage her fears.

Their initial test subjects covered a wide age range. The chosen people were those who would not go amiss.

But the experiments done did not go as planned. Instead of enhanced humans, what they got were beings with power of likes they had never seen before. The manipulation of air, gravity, telepathy, dream walking, and more – they all appeared. Unfortunately, not all survived. Some bodies would mutate horribly, others suffering a quick but painful death, and ones who would go stark raving mad from the power.

The results were unexpected, yet pleasing. Catarina was satisfied with the outcome.

Humans possessing power of otherworldliness? She desired to weaponise it.

The survivors underwent a series of further tests.

They fell one by one until only a select few survived. But their abilities were raw and untrained. The data at best minimal.

It was, however, made clear that only children from aged ten and up could survive the first phase of testing. Beyond the age of twenty, the serum mix would destroy their minds. Below the age of ten, their bodies would ultimately give in.

More people were needed.

And thus, Catarina launched a recruitment program. Under the guise of a highly selective training program that would enable those selected to eventually get a job with the government, they drew people in that way. Simultaneously, children from aged ten and up were kidnapped, spirited away to serve as the sole purpose for advancing the Janus experiments. They made sure to choose children who had no connections, naturally. As for the former, the family were not able to see their children but letters and the like were still allowed to be exchanged.

In order to ensure their fabrication did not rip apart at the seams, everything exchanged from the facility has since been closely watched.

Five years later, with the initiative having sufficiently progressed, it had been decided that the program will be taken a step further.

The Hunger Games were reinstated. The sponsors eagerly agreed to it and several more were found.

From the pool of current 'trainees', twenty will be reaped to participate in the Hunger Games. The sole purpose of it only for a breakthrough with the experimentations. They needed to know what set a Victor apart from the rest, the defects that could be rectified.

This year marks the very first Hunger Games.

A step deeper into the subjects' nightmare.

* * *

 **A/N: I didn't actually expect to come back this soon but I am really excited for this. But in any case, I'll like to thank nevergone4ever, felicitea and my best friend for helping me iron out the details for this verse. I hope the exposition didn't murder your brains too much but there's a tl;dr version on my profile. Guidelines and all things related to the SYOT is on my profile as well.**

 **Submissions are open!**

 **The deadline is three weeks from now, 7 June, midnight, GMT+8**


	2. First

**Prologue ; Part Two**

* * *

White blurred together. Shapeless figures melded with one another, flashes of red making it a dizzying array. Tremors took hold of her body. Bile burnt her throat as it surged its way up.

Her insides screamed, fire scorching it.

A wrangled scream tore free.

Something grabbed her, and she felt something sting her skin. She shrieked, and tried to lash out, but her wrists only flailed uselessly against the bindings.

The cacophony of voices made her struggle even more.

She could not see or hear anything.

Panic clawed its way up her chest and throat, constricting it, making it even harder to breathe.

She thrashed about, or tried to rather.

Lead weighed her down. The mess of shapes started to fade away. Her tongue felt thick. Pulling weakly against the restrains, darkness washed over her once more.

* * *

His left hand shook as he reached out to brush away a stray lock of hair from Claire's pallid face. But sudden pain, like electricity striking him, jolted through his wrist, and his hand dropped. He hissed in pain.

The door behind closed with a soft 'click'.

"Avel?"

"Nothing," he answered thickly, drawing his hand back to rest on his lap. "Everything's fine."

He felt another twinge of pain in his left wrist.

His face contorted into a grimace.

"Liar," Maribelle said softly.

Avel stared down at his lap, then at Claire, before his eyes finally met Maribelle's.

"It's nothing compared to what Claire's going through."

Unconsciously, his left hand tugged at the silver metal band around his right wrist. The red line in the middle glowed. Caving under Maribelle's hard gaze despite knowing she did not mean it, he looked around the hospital ward. It was a large white room and Claire was the sole occupant of it. Sterile, he thought, it was very sterile. But he expected nothing less.

The stench of blood and vomit could still be smelt. Faint, but there.

His heart squeezed, his expression full of sadness. Turning back to Claire, he slipped his hand under the blanket and found her hand. He held it, squeezed it, hoping it would give her some form of comfort in her dreams.

From his peripheral vision, he noticed Maribelle take the seat beside Claire's hospital bed, opposite from him.

"Do you…think she would appreciate it if we killed her?"

Once, Avel would have cried over their situation. Now, he merely barked out a harsh laugh.

His grip on Claire's hand tightened.

It was a horribly absurd question.

Bitterness welled up in him as his lips curled into a grim smile.

"Yes," he replied curtly.

Memories of the young girl begging for them to kill her resurfaced. The tears streaming down her face, her hands clutching onto his sleeve, her voice breaking and cracking.

He still had his legs then.

It was only a year ago.

"She's only fifteen, Mari." His voice rose a desperate notch.

Avel remembered his sister. She would be seventeen this year. Back then, he had been powerless to protect her. Claire was like another younger sister to him.

Yet again, he was powerless.

There was so much irony in that he wanted nothing more than to curl up and cry himself into a sleep.

But he found himself unable to shed anymore tears.

"She shouldn't be going through this," the brunette agreed. "None of us should."

Her face was devoid of expression as usual. As usual, her eyes expressed so much more. He observed her, saw her hands twitch, but nothing happened. Something light brushed against his hand under the blanket then, and he looked at Claire. Her eyelids fluttered open, eyes red and puffy.

Silence descended as she looked around. Maribelle reached over and propped up Claire's pillow for her, helping her to sit up. The latter smiled her thanks though it did not quite reach her eyes. Her hand slipped free from Avel's grasp and she clasped her hands together on her lap.

Avel's eyes traveled down the length of Claire's left arm. Fresh bruises were ever present. The line in her metal band was green. He watched quietly as her body tried to fix those fresh bruises on its own. But it was slower than usual. Much slower.

"Vera isn't here," Claire remarked. "Where is she?"

Fear permeated her tone. Avel shared a look with Maribelle. And as always, the latter broke the news. He watched her as he always did, and saw how her hands moved to grip the railing of the bed, knuckles turning white.

"She passed away yesterday, darling," the glacier eyed woman said gently.

Everyone became softer around Claire.

A few moments passed. The silence roared.

 _"_ _No."_

Claire gripped her sheets, eyes going wide.

"No," she repeated. "How? Why? When? _Why?_ " Her voice rose higher and higher with every question, breaths coming in short gasps.

Maribelle glanced anxiously at Avel.

"Avel?" Claire asked.

A single tear rolled down her cheek; her expression utterly broken.

He wanted to hate her at that moment. He couldn't do this. But she uttered her plea once more, and he wanted to cry with her.

They were falling one by one.

They were the first generation – first of the many to be tested on.

Only four of them survived to this day.

Yesterday, it was only five.

"She killed herself. She stole a gun from one of the guards and shot herself," he managed out.

A loud sob tore free from Claire and she buried her face in her hands. Avel did not say what would happen to Amara. The latter had gone mad three years ago after a test pushed her too far. She was now kept in confinement though still tested on. It would only be a matter of time before the officials deemed her too useless and execute her.

Then, there would only be three of them left.

Claire would probably go after Amara, Avel thought. Unless his condition suddenly worsened. Already, he could feel himself losing use of his arms. The serum was corrupting Claire's body, but her regeneration ability fought to keep her alive.

She would have died a long time ago otherwise.

And the scientists still continued to draw blood and inject new serum into her in hopes of drawing as much data as they could.

Maribelle was the healthiest on the surface.

But he had seen her falter at times, times when she did not know he was observing her. He had seen her stare in horror at the blood on her hands. She had grown more restrained, more guarded over the years. As if to spare herself as much heartache as possible from the deaths that would only come.

Avel gathered the crying Claire into his arms, stroking her hair, murmuring empty words of reassurance. Maribelle turned away. She walked to the window, and Avel looked away this time. If he strained his ears, he could hear her crying softly.

They entered with no one, but left with someone.

Avel stared up at the ceiling, wanting the tears to come though he had long grown tired of shedding tears.

He told this to no one.

But he clung onto the survivors for his last piece of sanity.

In a world where he was seen as nothing more than an object to be experimented upon, he needed a touch of humanity to hold him together.

The other survivors were the only ones who could do that.

* * *

 **A/N: A second prologue for world-building! Submissions are still open so feel free to submit :)**

 **The deadline has been extended to June 11**


	3. Necessity

**Prologue ; Part Three**

* * *

 _"_ _Today, Panem will be liberated!"_

 _"_ _President Snow has introduced state reforms…"_

 _"_ _I'm really thankful to President Snow for…"_

 _"…_ _hope it keeps up."_

 _"_ _Bless Ms. Snow!"_

The voices blurred together forming quite the chaos. Peering downwards, Catarina Snow could see the people on the ground, some in their standard white garbs, others Peacekeepers. The television played behind her, scenes and voices flashing one after another. News reports, interviews, documentaries, everything that had ever appeared ever since she took over.

All one rapid blur.

This would be the legacy her daughter would inherit. Catarina's lips twitched a little. But she managed to hold back her bitter smile.

A knock on her office door pulled her away from the window. Turning off the television, she called for the person to enter. Her Head Scientist stepped in, clutching a folder of papers to her chest.

"Good afternoon, Catarina."

A genuine smile graced the lips of the President.

"Good afternoon to you too, Wilhelmina. Take a seat. Would you like a drink?"

A light chuckle left the scientist's lips as she sat on the grey sofa, obviously at ease with the President. She set the folder down on the glass table.

"That's fine. I don't think the President of Panem should be serving me in any case." Their relationship during work was strictly professional; the two of them had agreed on it. Wilhelmina gestured to the folder. "The files of the chosen subjects are inside that."

Catarina sat opposite Wilhelmina, drawing her eyebrows together as she heard the latter's tone shift a little. Something did not sit quite right.

"Did something happen to any of the other test subjects?"

A poignant pause.

"Subject D4002 has died."

Subject D4002 – Amara Vervell. Catarina remembered her when she was first brought in. Her pale face was devoid of expression, but her eyes held life. They only saw each other through glass since. Amara's eyes had reddened and died surely but slowly.

Catarina wondered why she remembered these details sometimes. It mattered little in the grand scheme of things. But she knew, had always known, that it was the little things that added up to the big picture. Her conscience ate away at her at times. But paranoia would take over.

This was a necessity.

The name she bore was an incredibly heavy burden. Her hold on the people unsteady. She had to ensure her reign was infallible.

This was the only way.

"What is the cause?"

"Doctor Yang ordered the execution. It has been beheaded. Blood has already been drawn from the corpse for examination."

Wilhelmina's tone was cold and matter-of-fact. Catarina expected no less of her chosen Head Scientist. But the latter saw in the former's dark brown eyes anger simmering in them. The matter of the test subjects for the reinstated Hunger Games could be set aside for now.

"I assume you did not allow for that to happen?" Catarina asked.

"Amara wasn't supposed to die. She could still be used. I was so close to finding the prevention for any possible madness that could arise."

Wilhelmina's hands had balled into fists, lips pressed into a thin line. As far as possible, everyone kept to the distinguished protocol of never referring to the test subjects with any gender pronouns, but anger made people slip. Sighing in frustration, Wilhelmina uncurled her fingers and picked up the folder instead. Catarina watched her in weighted silence. She made her decision.

Words of reassurance and comfort rose to Catarina's mind, but she pushed them away. Those were not needed for the situation.

"I see," Catarina answered coolly. Their eyes met, understanding passing between them. Seemingly calmed by the blonde's answer, Wilhelmina took out the list of chosen test subjects, serial number beside each of their names.

"Please go over the list and see if it pleases you."

Catarina studied the list carefully before referring to the files. Tests done on them, their performance, frame of mind, everything had been recorded down. Eventually, she put the files and list down.

"Good work." She looked at the clock. "We have two hours till the sponsors come. Would you like to go for lunch?"

* * *

 **A/N: I just want to apologise to those whose tributes didn't make the list. There were some I really didn't want to reject but I couldn't take anymore. Sorry.**

 **Without further ado, here are the tributes! Congratulations to those who got in!**

* * *

 **Females**

Verena Carnes, 20

Vernia Easton, 19

Lorelle Fetique, 16

Chandra Kess, 16

Foster Levones, 17

Danica Vaughn, 17

Alexis Reed, 18

Adriadne Nevaario, 19

Aaliyah Prosser, 19

Cadraya Artiff, 17

 **Males**

Zayn Poe, 19

Sylwen Mirkovic, 17

Aras Page, 20

Miles Tutela, 19

Levi Rylen, 19

Jerod Dulmanac, 18

Elijah Iasthai, 16

Devon Jacquard, 18

Beck Vallinga, 18

Daniel Acardi, 16

* * *

Blog: dusttodusthg . blogspot . com

* * *

 **Many thanks to felicitea for helping me with the blog! I wouldn't have been able to get things up in time if not for her.**

 **Some of you may notice your tribute's age may have changed a little to try to balance this as much as possible. Apologies. I would have notified you but I was running out of time. The potential part in the blog is indicative of how much potential their power has to grow during the course of the Games and that mash of alphabets and numbers above their picture is their serial number.**

 **The next update won't be coming in the next week because I'll be overseas tomorrow. But I can't wait to kick things off!**

* * *

 **Questions:**

 **Any standouts?**

 **Are there any tributes you're looking forward to seeing?**


	4. Power and Control

**Chapter One : Power and Control**

* * *

 **Lorelle Fetique, 16**

* * *

 _Breathe._

Lorelle loosened her iron grip on her waist. Though her heart pounded away, blood roaring in her ears, she told herself she was fine. A shuddering breath rocked through her body. Dropping her arms to her sides, back ramrod straight, she took a step further into the populated garden.

Snatches of conversation floated her way, and she smiled at those who looked her way. Her lips trembled. Her heart yearned to talk with them. A bit more force, and the shaky curve would probably break.

Someone brushed against her and she jumped. Her vision dotted with black for a moment as the hammering of her heart overtook her hearing. But then, she managed to pull herself together and the person who had brushed past her was gone. Lorelle swallowed, and picked up her pace.

The people in her way were dizzying. Why were there so _many?_ Somewhere in the depths of her frazzled mind, the word Sunday floated across. Sunday was a day of rest for most of the subjects. And the garden was quite the popular spot to come and rest – the only place devoid of any testing contraptions.

Heart feeling like it was going to burst out of her chest, Lorelle practically ran the last bit of the pebbled path to her waiting friend.

He stood alone in a quieter corner, luckily.

"Dakota," Lorelle burst out once she reached him.

Her hands trembled as cold sweat started to chill her body. Gently, the Asian boy gathered her pale hands in his. He guided her to the empty bench next to him, and they settled down under the shade of the tree.

Free to observe the people in the garden, tension slowly ebbing out from her, Lorelle watched them. Their relaxed poise, the light touches, and easy smiles – they all filled her with wistfulness, and envy.

She stared down at her hands, at her fingers intertwined with Dakota's. She wished she could do what they did. But she could never afford to do so.

"Lore, look," Dakota pointed out, jerking his chin in the direction of a nearby flowerbed. "Have you fed today?"

The wilting white daises were almost enrapturing. Almost. It only served as a reminder that she could destroy anything.

"Yeah," she answered. The edges of her lips tugged up into a barely there smile. Pale blue eyes remained lifeless. "I guess it wasn't enough."

She pulled her hands away from Dakota's.

"Thank you."

The same words spilled from her as always.

 _Thank you for balancing me. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for not abandoning me._

He grinned. Bumping her shoulder playfully, he gestured wildly around to the groups in the garden, some leaving. His expression turned pensive a moment later though. Lorelle cocked her head in puzzlement, confused at the sudden change in his mood.

"Are you sure you want to continue meeting here?"

An exasperated sigh left Lorelle instantly. He asked this question weekly without fail. Her answer never changed, but she appreciated that he was always thinking of how to make things better for her.

"Yes," she said firmly. "I…I like being with people. Even if I can't really talk to them."

If she eased up even slightly, if she let her guard down just a tiny bit, she could lose control and _kill_ them. The very thought of it horrified her.

Not to mention what the scientists would do to her if her power acted up. The needles and the tubes poking at her, into her, worming under her skin. Her skin prickled at the memories.

Then, a weightless feeling entered her body, and she flailed around wildly.

She loathed not having control over herself.

Panic left her as easily as it came however, and she found herself face to face with Dakota. He set her down on the ground gently, one hand holding hers tightly. Guilt twinged in her. Her emotions had to be burdensome for him. A heavy feeling swept over her, but tranquillity replaced them.

"No, they aren't," he responded quite suddenly. When he looked at her, she had to crane her neck up and shield her eyes against the blinding sun. "I would have left a long time ago if I couldn't handle them."

Her steps slowed to a stop.

"How did you…?" She trailed off knowing he would answer her unfinished question.

Really though, she should have known. Five years of friendship and he was the only one who ever cared enough to stay by her side. Even if it meant risking his life at times when she was at her most unstable.

"You're really easy to read, Lore," Dakota laughed. "You aren't a burden to me."

Tugged forward, Lorelle came to stand beside Dakota. They resumed walking.

"Let me do the caring when we're together, alright?"

A rhetorical question. The only answer he would allow was a 'yes'. And not for the first time, Lorelle nodded.

Dakota continued prattling on, nudging her on occasion for answers.

Lorelle's tiny smile grew bigger and bigger as they did their customary walk around the garden.

But she could never truly relax.

Not even Dakota could restrain her power.

* * *

 **Sylwen Mirković, 17**

* * *

"Personally speaking, I think you have the right to be angry."

Sylwen leaned against a pillar, watching the movements of the young girl next to him. How old was she? Fifteen, sixteen? It hardly mattered to him anyway. Age was but a number in the grand scheme of things. People should just learn how to _let go_ no matter their maturity.

The pink-head remembered when he was fifteen. Life seemed marvellously hopeless, and being surrounded by idiots who saw no further than their own two feet hardly helped. The endless sleepless nights were rewarded with the recruitment advertisement on television. It was only natural to join – it seemed like the only way out at that time. The only way out of his monotonous life.

Needless to say, it was life-changing.

Sylwen smirked.

"Is anything the matter?"

"Everything's the matter," he lamented.

The girl's chocolate brown eyes widened. He chuckled. He decided to tone it down before the girl decided she was better off without him. What was her name again? Did she even introduce herself?

"But now, the only thing that matters is you," he patted her head. Static jolted through him and he started, drawing his hand back immediately. Oops. "He had no right to do that to you. Insulting someone as, um, powerful as you? He clearly has a death wish."

Stroking egos was always such a fun and boring thing to do. People who came up complaining to him about something or another just wanted their ego to be fed. Sylwen was a master at that, fortunately. He did wonder what was so charming about him that made strangers come up to him to spill out their worries.

Perhaps it had something to do with how easily he was forgotten. Forgotten people rarely made much of a splash in anything.

He watched little lightning bolts shoot out from the girl's hand into the box of sand. What she wanted to do; he had no idea. But it seemed dangerous so he distanced himself. Getting injured in the training room today was not very high up on his agenda.

"I know right!" she answered angrily, tossing her dark brown hair behind her shoulder.

Sylwen studied her carefully. If he pulled the right strings, she could fall right into the palms of his hands.

"I want to teach him a lesson, but how?"

She was getting on his nerves.

Deciding he had had enough of hearing her prattle on about her strength, he pushed himself off the pillar.

Forgotten people rarely made much of a splash in anything.

Sylwen never believed in that.

But, beliefs were the easiest thing to manipulate.

"Challenge him," he answered. "Don't hold back. You," he slid his eyes towards the sparkling bolts of energy, "control lightning, right? Fry him so bad he'll learn to never mock you."

Seriously, the facility should learn how to tame egos. With great power came great responsibility should be drilled into the subjects' heads.

"But the guards…"

Guards were always stationed in rooms that allowed them to use their power freely. Everywhere else; the guards melded in as a test subject or the cameras observed their every movement.

"Sparring matches are allowed," Sylwen bluffed.

The brunette's eyes practically lit up. He managed to control himself enough not to scoff. She was definitely new and unlearned in the ways of how the facility worked. She probably failed to listen to the briefings too.

Training rooms were not for sparring. There were designated rooms for that, and everything to do with that was heavily regulated.

The last thing the authorities wanted was the facility to be destroyed via a destructive clash of powers, after all.

"You're the best!" she grinned.

He cringed internally at her naivety.

At least he would get to see her thrown into solitary confinement.

Cheerfully waving goodbye, Sylwen noticed a guard was staring at him. The former shifted uncomfortably. How long had he been watched? He rarely got careless with his machinations, but sometimes, he still slipped up. Especially when he had to dedicate his attention to making sure what he wanted went according to plan.

Knowing better than to smile at the guard, Sylwen shifted the metal band on his wrist. He counted silently in his head.

On the twentieth second, sparks flew.

Literally.

A grin nearly split Sylwen's face into half as shouting and screaming filled the room. He was fairly sure he heard a 'the fuck, bitch!' thrown in. Laughter rippled free from him. Snorting away, he wondered if he would be electrocuted if he tried phasing through the pillar behind him.

Shots echoed through the dust billowing through the room. Smoke with the distinct odour of charred flesh entered the pink-head's nostrils. He pulled a face. Burnt meat smelt disgusting.

Laughing to himself, someone pushed Sylwen roughly to the ground. Guards had flooded into the room, forcing the other powered people down. His dark brown eyes flitted downwards to his metal band. The green line coloured red, shock and pain gripping him as he felt the familiar disconnect to his power set in.

His pupils dilated. His vision faded in and out. The hand on his head moved down to his wrists and cuffed them together. Yanked up roughly, Sylwen couldn't help his grin.

There was no reason for people to hold back.

Everything became so much more fun with destruction and chaos.

"C070," someone called.

His head snapped towards the feminine voice. A scientist stood in front of him holding a clipboard. The scientist's eyes flicked downwards to it before their eyes met again.

"Take it away."

* * *

 **Verena Carnes, 20**

* * *

It felt as though someone could slice through the tension with a butter knife.

Verena frowned when she noticed a gathering in the common room. A few kept glancing over to the entrance of the dormitory. Her skin prickled with untold aggression, and she made her way over. Sleepiness still tugged at her eyelids, but it vanished as soon as she saw the sight before her.

A black haired girl was sprawled on the marble floor, a blonde standing above her. The latter had her left foot placed on the abdomen of the former.

How pathetic.

Verena wasn't too surprised though.

The dormitories were one of the very few places that were largely unobserved, and things tended to happen. She supposed it was expected if one had a large group of females living together, some particularly crazy for one reason or another. Fights never happened though. If they did, they were broken up quickly.

Wherever fights happened, the guards came.

Keeping her lazy smile to herself, Verena stepped forward. Her heart squeezed as her gut roiled. Confrontations were never her forte, but they were necessary sometimes. She swallowed to keep her cool.

Surprise flitted across the blonde's expression before she scowled.

"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" Verena asked.

The blonde scoffed. She grinded her heel further into the black haired girl's stomach. The pink-head winced at the whimper. She remembered the prone girl. Quiet, withdrawn, never really interacting much, but she had been here longer than Verena.

The blonde growled, pulling her right arm back, hand curling into a fist.

"Why don't you mind your own, bitch!"

Verena barely avoided her fist flying her way. It seemed as though the prospect of an actual fight breaking out cut through the tension though. The bystanders broke out of their frozen poses. A few threw themselves onto the girl, and others rushed to the other girl sprawled on the ground.

How volatile, Verena remarked tonelessly in her mind.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins, heat rushing through her body. Taking in a deep breath to calm down, relieved that she hadn't actually been hit, she moved to the victim's side. The blonde was being carted off by a few others. Verena was pleased. Yet again, an action of hers had emboldened others to act.

Perfect.

"Thank you," the blackhead murmured.

Verena shot her her most winning smile.

"No problem. It's only natural."

The young girl only smiled wanly before pushing herself up and rushing off, arms wrapping around her waist.

"Nice, Verena!" A dorm mate praised.

The woman laughed and shook her head. Looking over their heads to see who remained, she saw someone with dark hair scoff before walking off. Verena shrugged. No matter.

The other girls crowded around the biological manipulator, forming a natural circle around her. Pride and joy blossomed in Verena's heart. Lips curling into a self-satisfied grin, she launched into an easy conversation with the others. The girls from before were long forgotten.

Fights, what fights?

None of it really mattered to her so long as she could be lauded in some way.

Pleased that her daily good deed was done, Verena extricated herself from the girls after a while more to slip off on her own.

Humming as she walked, footsteps holding a bounce in them, she easily merged with the other test subjects. Her eyes flitted around, trying to see if she could pick out any guards. There were the obvious ones but those were at the fringe of the areas. Then there were the ones who melded with the others.

The undercover ones never stayed in the dormitories though. The common shower would expose them.

Why get a brand when you didn't have to?

The nape of her neck felt as if it had been touched by fire. Rubbing the back of it, her fingers slipped under her hair to run over the tattoo with her serial number. Her smile faded a little as her heart clenched.

She was theirs.

Good deeds, huh?

The hairs on her neck stood up, but the feeling it brought was different. As though someone was watching her. Her fingers curled up and she clasped them behind her back. Subconsciously, she quickened her pace. She had to distract herself. She was thinking too much.

Drawing out of her inner world, she took to observing the people around her.

 _She's slouching too much, he's talking too loudly, picking your nose in public is unrefined, don't fling your hand right in front of my face, she looks too unholy._

Verena's nose wrinkled in disgust at the brunette's hair plastering to her face. Her complexion was pallid and she looked like she was going to collapse. Couldn't the girl have stayed in instead of gracing everyone with her disgusting appearance?

Her back seemed to tighten then, the skin drawing tightly across her bones. Veering off the main path to a secluded one, the sensation faded slightly though she still felt on edge. Setting her jaw, Verena refused to be afraid. Exuding false confidence, she spun around to a scientist behind her with two guards.

A quick look around told her that the other subjects were plainly ignoring her. Some took a few looks but no one did anything.

No one ever did.

"Yes?" she asked.

Did it have to do with the fight in the dormitory earlier?

"It is C089," the man in the middle affirmed. "Take it away."

Verena submitted to the guards coming to either side of her, walking with them. But panic had surged up in her. She took a deep breath to maintain her composure.

Something was different, off about this entire thing.

They always said 'Come with us'. Never 'Take it away'.

She had the feeling this was not going to be a simple experiment or test run.

* * *

 **Elijah Iasthai, 17**

* * *

Elijah's body felt as if it was going to fall apart.

Strength leaving his legs as the seconds ticked by, body breaking out in a feverish sweat, dark crimson marking his skin, staining his clothes, Elijah was barely holding on.

His vision blurred, and his legs gave in. Knees hit the linoleum tiles, pain ricocheting through him. He would have bruises there later. Vision clearing, he refocused on the girl. He could hear her wails as she unleashed another furious blast of energy against the solid dummy. She dissolved into a fresh round of sobbing. The dummy had hardly budged.

 _Please make this stop,_ Elijah begged mentally.

"D12066, do not stop. Continue." The monotonous voice blasted through the intercom.

The girl looked like she was barely holding on. Elijah hoped she would collapse then and there, then the researchers would have to halt this practice.

Then, he would no longer have to heal her.

He instantly hated himself for feeling that way.

He looked at his- her injuries. Her injuries on him. The surface of his skin – the epidermis was it? – were whittled away on his arms and shins.

"D12066!" The voice growled out.

Elijah's head snapped up. He saw her flinch. She was new to the program, still young, but already so tortured. He could see it in her eyes – the same look he seemed to see in almost everyone he had met; torment and fear.

Her hand raised up.

 _No, please don't, please just collapse right now. You're being such a burden to me. I don't want to take your injuries anymore!_

She was still crying.

 _Please._

The air vanished from around Elijah. He gasped, flying into a panic even though he should be used to it already. A whistling sound resounded. Then air came rushing back to him, slamming into his lungs as he inhaled. He winced from the force.

He somehow managed to keep himself conscious. He saw the dummy's head fall, the girl finally managing to have cut it down.

"Good job, D12066. This is it for today."

She turned to face him.

He could see her skin had disappeared. Not from her arms or her shins. Not even from her thighs. It was from her face. Her power had injured her once again. The blood was such a bright, bright scarlet.

Her lips moved.

 _"_ _Hey, heal me. That's your job, right?"_

"Hey, heal me. That's your job, right?"

Every single one of them was the same. From past to present, nothing had really changed.

Elijah wanted to decline, he wanted to say no. But self-loathing washed over him once more. How _dare_ he say no?

Self-preservation reared its ugly head.

The girl frowned, then glared.

Elijah swallowed.

He nodded and took a deep breath to still himself. He began to focus, imagining himself taking away her wounds, imagining the wounds appearing on him instead.

How dare he say no?

This was his only worth.

"C036, stop."

Elijah froze. The researchers had come down with the guards.

"D12066, you will follow Doctor Gin. C036, follow me."

Relief spread throughout Elijah, as hot and fast as wildfire. He pushed himself up, trying to stand, but his legs wobbled and he fell to the ground. The researcher sighed.

"Carry it."

A minute later, after a bit of struggling, Elijah found himself on the back of a guard. He refused to rest his head on the guard's shoulder. They were not doing it out of kindness. It was out of necessity.

This facility and its system were not, and would never be, kind.

His body hurt so much and with every jerk, he felt as though some part of him was going to unravel. It suddenly did not seem it was just the epidermis that had been eroded away. He had a feeling it went deeper than that. He had healed her plenty. But his mind was too muddled to really remember much of anything.

Refusing to lose consciousness, Elijah thought about random things. From his parents to their last conversation to what he had for breakfast.

He practiced what he would say to them in their next phone call. _Yes, everything is going well. I haven't been falling behind. The higher-ups are all very proud of me._

His thoughts spun around, some coherent, others incoherent. And just as he was slipping off to a sea of black, the guard roughly threw him onto a soft bed.

"Doctor, please take care of C036," the researcher said.

There was the hissing of a door sliding, then a 'click'. The only sound was sterile silence.

"A healer will be coming soon," the doctor's voice floated over.

"Okay."

Elijah's mind drifted. If he could count all the injuries he had sustained over the years, if they would all reappear on his body at once, would he unravel like bandages? His flesh and bone nothing but shreds fluttering away into the wind, disappearing and vanishing weightlessly.

He was nothing more than split ends and fraying ropes.

Breaks came irregularly for him. When he was unneeded, he was left to wander the sometimes empty halls alone. When he was needed, he had to be there.

 _"_ _You mongrel."_

That person was right. He was nothing more than their dog. A dog utterly at their beck and call.

"The healer is here," the doctor called.

Elijah's eyelids fluttered open. A skittish young girl stood over him. He dully wondered if any of the data gotten from him was represented in her. Her hands hovered above his body.

She was certainly a better specimen than him.

"Thank you," he said blankly.

She must be the better model of him, he reflected.

His thoughts faded into obscurity for a moment before it came back full force.

How pathetic of him.

* * *

 **Danica Vaughn, 17**

* * *

With every grunt, with every whimper, Danica's heart twisted a bit more.

It brought back memories of the abandoned factory. Where her sole companions were the _drip drop_ of water and roaring silence.

She wondered what she was doing here. Scanning the common room, she realised dejectedly that trying to escape would only attract attention. She sighed and resumed observing the blonde kicking the ebony haired girl down onto the ground.

How pathetic.

The gibberish whispers in Danica's head only increased. One hand trailing up the russet coloured wall, she took a step back. Grayish-green eyes trailed down her left arm to the metal band around her wrist. The hypnotizing red glowed.

It wasn't enough to stop the vines from crawling across her body. From the voices whispering constantly in her ears, her mind, until they reached a buzz much like bees. Chill crept into her body, sneaking into her veins.

 _Mine, mine, mine, ours, ours, ours, mineminemineminemioursursuours…_

Danica blinked.

The vines were gone. She breathed. They probably were never there to begin with. But the voices never ceased, ever her constant companions. No matter how much they numbed her to her power, or how much electricity cut into her, the voices were always there.

The shadows wanted her.

They loved her.

It had been so ever since that day.

It only empowered Danica and her sense of power.

"-pick on someone your own size." The husky voice cut through Danica's train of thought.

The latter perked up, interested by the turn of events. She rolled her eyes when she saw it was Verena Carnes. That woman made quite the reputation of being a saint. Danica never believed it though.

There was simply no way people could be so virtuous.

Especially in an environment such as this.

The fight was broken up all too quickly, and the shadow user decided to lurk around a bit more to see if anything else would occur. Verena and the black haired girl interacted briefly before the latter rushed off. The former's beam made Danica want to throw up. Her lips formed a mirthless smile.

Fake.

Scoffing at the girls gathering around Verena, Danica stalked off. She couldn't believe she roomed with such oblivious idiots at times. Crossing her arms, face a stony stare, she ignored the wistful clenching of her heart.

She didn't need friends. She didn't need anyone.

Warmth greeted Danica. She stood outside the building for a few moments, inhaling the air, smelling salt and wet moss. It was more humid than usual today. Moving off, she did not go far before a cheerful voice greeted her.

"Dani!"

Aurora bounced over to the older girl and flung her arms around her waist. Danica cracked a small smile, and ruffled her hair affectionately.

She didn't need anyone.

Danica knew more than anyone how much of a lie that was.

"Hey."

"Have you eaten?"

"No." Danica wavered between telling Aurora about the fight in the dormitory before deciding against it. "I just woke up a while ago."

It was a lie, but she figured Aurora didn't have to know. She wondered if Aurora's dorm had fewer issues than hers. Somehow, she doubted it.

"Let's eat together!"

"Of course."

The answer fell easily from Danica's lips. Aurora sticking close to her side, the dark haired girl slid one arm around the blonde's shoulders to hold her close. Looking at her, all Danica saw was her thirteen year old self. Wide-eyed and seeing life through rose-coloured glasses; it ignited a flame of protectiveness.

People lost their innocence once they stepped into this compound. But at the very least, Danica wanted to keep Aurora from corrupting like her.

The young girl tugged on Danica's hand, gesturing wildly to the different things she saw. Her blue eyes were bright. It tugged at Danica's heartstrings a little. Lips curling up into a soft smile, she let Aurora tug her down the way to the cafeteria. She quirked up an eyebrow at the way Aurora took.

Before she could say anything though, Aurora skidded to a stop.

"Um, Dani, there are a few scientists…" she trailed off uncertainly.

Haunches rising, Danica focused ahead. The pavement had become oddly empty though a few people were still scattered around. Danica sucked in a deep breath to calm down, and nodded at the scientist that stopped in front of her. The guards with him left her nervous. His grey eyes flicked to Aurora.

Getting the feeling the scientist only wanted to deal with her, and her alone, Danica turned to Aurora and knelt.

"Aurora, head to the cafeteria first, okay? And you went the wrong way. It's down the other path. I'll be with you soon."

The girl looked as though she wanted to protest, but after looking in between Danica and the researcher, she nodded and quickly walked the way she was pointed in.

Danica straightened and regarded the researcher coolly. Her customary sullen expression set in, lips pressed into a thin line.

"What do you need with me, Doctor Javonne?"

She didn't recall being scheduled for anything today. There was always the possibility she was needed for something though.

"D5063," the researcher rasped out. "You will be coming with us. Take it away."

 _Take it away._

The guards moved forward. Danica scowled at them. The voices, having faded into the background, came back stronger than other. They were hissing and growling. Danica glared resentfully at the metal band around her wrist. No matter how hard she tried to reach out to her power, it remained as elusive as ever.

She couldn't escape into the shadows. The guards would gun her down. There was only one way forward.

Shrugging off the guards' hands, Danica fell into step with the researcher. It would be useless to ask any further.

She could tell things were different.

Her thoughts wandered back to Aurora. To the girl who would be waiting eagerly for her at the cafeteria.

 _I hope I can see her again._

* * *

 **A/N: Yep, I'm finally home. Here's our first batch of tributes! I enjoyed writing this chapter a lot. It'll be great to hear what you think!**


	5. Author's Note

**Author's Note: Yeah, this is in no way an update. Before I begin, I would first like to apologise to all of you who have submitted to Dust to Dust and have been accepted, including my readers who may not have submitted. I understand my track record with SYOTs has been quite the terrible one, so to still have gained quite the number of submissions (at least to me) to pick and select, I was very grateful. I am also very appreciative towards the encouraging reviews I have gotten.**

 **I will be discontinuing Dust to Dust. There will be no summary or placements, anything of that sort. I had yet to plan that before I got too busy, apologies.**

 **After my last update, my second school term started up again and I was far too busy with, well, life in general to really be thinking about fanfiction or even just writing as much I wanted to. Many things happened during those eight weeks. Further adding on several other personal issues, I eventually realised my priorities have changed. I still love to write; it is one of the few things I can genuinely say I love. Fanfiction simply isn't anywhere near my priorities.**

 **The few months spent away from fanfiction (and the site) has put into perspective several things for me. I will still write, but simply not for fanfiction anymore.**

 **I have thought about it for quite a while already, and this probably functions as some sort of goodbye letter. I'm quitting FF. I'll still read the stories that have accepted my tribute, but I will no longer be submitting. That being said, if you ever need someone to make a tribute, feel free to hit me up. I'll see what I can do.**

 **The past two years on FF have truly been my two most enjoyable ones. I met several people I grew close to. You guys know who you are :)**

 **So with that, goodbye!**

 **Once again, many thanks to those who have submitted, reviewed, followed, favourited, etc. And many apologies too for not completing the story.**

 **I'm probably just talking to myself at this point, bahaha.**

 **\- Aspect**


End file.
